


love fill me up, up, up, till i can't see at all

by sapphire2309



Series: recessional [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Experimental Style, F/F, Issues With Reality, Mirrors, Nightmares, POV Second Person, Root is Alive, post-s5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire2309/pseuds/sapphire2309
Summary: "Are you real," you ask, "or are you a dream?"
Relationships: Root (Person of Interest)/Sameen Shaw
Series: recessional [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840426
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	love fill me up, up, up, till i can't see at all

**Author's Note:**

> Title and inspiration from Now Three by Vienna Teng.
> 
> Somewhat related to [i thought that you should know before you fall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25387009). If there's a third, I'll make them a series. (ETA: Series'd!)
> 
> i've been playing fallen london how obvious is it. (don't lie. goth mom will be disappointed in you if you lie. don't disappoint goth mom.)

"Are you real," you ask, "or are you a dream?"

The face in the mirror, not your own, gives you a sharklike smile.

(You broke all the mirrors by the end of your first week here. How is this one intact?)

You strike the mirror with a fist. 

It shatters, rains smaller mirrors all around you. 

But then time... reverses? The mirror re-forms. The sinister sharklike smile re-forms. 

You break it.

It breaks. It unbreaks.

Rinse, repeat ad infinitum.

You snarl.

You wake.

(Do you wake?)

You think you see glimmers of mirrors in every shadow. In the light glinting against her hair-

_Her._

Root.

You hold her face and devour her mouth before she's even awake, close your eyes, there's nothing worth seeing out there anyway. Taste her lips, her skin, try to believe it's more real than mirrors that just won't break.

"Sameen," she says, when you retreat to catch a breath. It's a lifebuoy tossed into your hands and you hold it tight, let it caress your mind, play it over and over again, _Sameen, Sameen, Sameen Sameen Sameen,_ till your name in her voice replaces the gentle tinkling of glass shards still echoing in your ears. 

Taste her, hear her, touch her, let that fill you to the brim and empty out your memories (dreams? nightmares? macabre imaginings?) into the void of night.


End file.
